At The Point Of His Sword (2/4)
Author: Jusrecht

Pairings: Gino/Suzaku, some Lelouch/Suzaku, a little past Gino/Anya

Warning: Humour, crack, excessive fluff, whirlwind romance, not-crippled!Nunnally, Lelouch being jealously possessive (and the author making fun of him to her utmost enjoyment), Gino extensively quoting Shakespeare, and silliness in general. And, uh, wordiness.

Summary: 'Romeo and Juliet' gone horribly wrong. Total AU.

--

Morning dawned bright and early the next day after a night of music and merriment, dissolving its spells into pale tendrils of reality. Life fell back to its dreadful monotony, for the moment of magic had ended with the first streaks of sunlight upon this green earth.

But three hearts lingered in the night before, three hearts which suffered in different turmoil and for different reasons. And this new day could only suggest either of two things for them: that it was going to be worse, or it was going to be better.

Gino was optimistic. Suzaku was more apprehensive than anything. Lelouch, on the other hand, was downright antagonistic toward life and a particular blond man who was unfortunate enough to cross the line he had set around himself and those he loved.

But the morning had dawned anyway.

--

It was a fine morning, in Nunnally's opinion. She enjoyed the mild sunlight and the tender breeze slipping between her fingers and the long strands of her hair as she basked herself in the moment of peace. The garden made a lovely sight at this time of the year – not as impressive as springtime perhaps, but lovely nonetheless under the clear blue sky. She loved sitting here at her favourite spot, pursuing her favourite pastimes – embroideries this time – in the middle of these beautiful flowers laid out all around her like a carpet of many colours, a tribute to her mother's fondness of plants.

As much as she had enjoyed the celebration last night, there was something about the tranquillity of a quiet morning which captivated her in a manner no other could. Particularly at this moment of the day, when the sun had yet to shine too brightly or too warmly, and the birds were still inclined to offer their choice of melody for the day. All peace and beauty, truly a gift from the heavens.

Her brother, however, seemed to have a vastly different opinion. After choosing the company of a book for the rest of the morning, he had then proceeded to neglect said company completely – for no matter how determined one stared at a book, it lost all its meanings and purposes if half-an-hour had passed and another page had yet to be turned. Nunnally felt something oddly akin to pity when she glanced at the poor volume, partly expecting the open page to combust from the weight of her brother's burning gaze alone.

It was also the same pity which eventually stirred her into action. Putting down the light-green linen she had been embroidering on her lap, she looked at him and said gently, "Brother, you may want to choose another volume if that one cannot hold your interest for long."

His eyes were swift to rest on her, guarded and more than a little defensive, but she had long since perfected her art of looking completely innocent. "Why ever did you say that, dear sister?" he asked quickly, a smile standing on guard to deter any more suspicion coming his way.

Oh, so they were going to play that game. Fine enough by her. Nunnally chose one among her sweetest smiles to grace her features and said again, "Why, even the most imperceptive little girl will notice when you have stared at the same page for at least an hour, Brother." Not exactly the truth, but she did not mind a little overstatement as long as it served to help her winning this battle.

He rose to her challenge with an eloquent arch of eyebrows. "Surely you jest, Sister, for the sun is not that high up yet in the sky."

"Oh, but it matters little," she evaded flippantly. "The length of time is hardly the case in this subject, for you are in fact not concentrating in your reading and this, without question, is a proof that a trouble weighs heavily in your mind."

Rather a roundabout way to approach an issue, but it eventually yielded the desired results. She could see the frustration her brother had been trying to conceal reappear to the surface, darkening his mien and plaguing his eyes. This relieved her somewhat, since it meant that he still did not mind to let his guard down in front of her – with the persistence of a little encouragement, that was.

"I do not know why my mind is unable to focus on anything today," he admitted at last with a rather disconsolate air. The book now lay forgotten on the grass for he no longer had any need of pretence.

Nunnally looked down to hide her budding smile and picked up her unfinished work to provide an excellent cover of business. "Perhaps it has something to do with the incident occurring last night?" she inquired as naturally as possible.

Her brother was quick to respond. "Certainly not," he said with a degree of vehemence which invited more doubts instead of certainty to his listener. She wondered if he had any idea how easy to read he was in matters like this. "Although I admit that I am still at a loss why Suzaku allowed that scoundrel to lay even one finger on his person," he added with more warmth than what was strictly necessary in a subject concerning a mere friend.

Nunnally had her own guess on their friend's evident lack of opposition but decided to keep it to herself at the moment. She was of the opinion that it was best to distance her brother from any depressing prospect when his mood was less than amiable, for they tended to provoke him in the worst possible manners. And she absolutely had no intention to disrupt the tranquillity of this morning, no matter how much she loved him.

At least not yet. It was entirely too possible that something might be able to tempt her later.

By now, her brother had risen to his feet and started to pace around to soothe his agitation. His eyes repeatedly glanced toward the other side of the garden as he did so, strengthening her suspicion in regard to the presence of a certain someone in the vicinity of that particular direction. While she was deeply sympathetic toward her brother and his obvious tribulations, Nunnally had to admit that she also derived more than a moderate amount of guilty pleasure from watching him floundering in agony of a threatened love. Truly there was nothing more effective than a possible competition to push one into motion.

She sighed quietly, in both contentment and anxiety. The problem now lay at the end of the road – whether or not the feeling was reciprocated. This, however, she was less certain. If only there was a way to find out for real, then perhaps she would be able to act accordingly…

"Why is Suzaku so awfully fond of flowers?"

Nunnally looked up from the detailed wing of a sparrow she was trying to embroider toward her brother who still had his eyes fixed to one particular spot. "Flowers?" she inquired in a perfectly gullible tone.

He did not answer, and so she shifted her sitting position slightly in order to follow his gaze. True to her supposition, the new subject of their discussion was there, immersed in one of his weekly morning rituals. She did not quite remember when it had started, but one day, she had just realised that Suzaku had been dedicating his Saturday mornings in the garden to help one of theirs gardeners, Rivalz, tending some flowers. The only reason why her brother had not raised further protest over what he often called employing their dearest friend in a lowly, menial job was that Suzaku had, in fact, enjoyed the activity.

That and he made quite a spectacle while carrying out this ritual of his, amidst the colourful field of flowers. With his tanned skin almost aglow under the clear sunshine, his copper-brown hair framed in the brightest of morning light, and his smile no less radiant than the sun itself, he painted a picture which took even her breath away. To this sight her brother had fallen victim far too many times and yet could never bring himself to act on it.

"Suzaku always likes pretty things, does he not?" she said placidly, a most subtle nudge to the tangled, fervently in-denial heart that was her brother's.

"Oh, he likes everything." This was spoken bitterly, with almost too much intensity behind it that Nunnally felt obliged to throw a glance at her brother from the corner of her eyes. There was a magnificent scowl twisting his countenance as he continued his scrutiny upon their friend.

"Well, that is true, I suppose," she answered in a neutral fashion, unsure if this vehemence was indeed something she needed to take seriously or simply another example of his oftentimes extravagant reactions.

"And yet, he never likes anything in any particular manner," he said again, followed with a wistful sigh. "Or anyone in that matter."

Nunnally wisely abstained from offering a reply. At this point, her brother was obviously holding an exclusive conversation with himself, and she was more than glad to be an unobtrusive listener as he plunged into a lengthy, sometimes flowery description on how, unbeknownst to their wielder, Suzaku's smiles had the power to destroy, or even kill. It then inevitably delivered him to an even longer narration – hypothetically speaking, he insisted, since the character was purely fictional – in which there was a certain unmentionable young man who had found himself falling deeply in love with these smiles and yet unable to do anything about this – as he had so aptly put – romantic infatuation.

Throughout the soliloquy, there were moments when Nunnally had to apply everything within her power to suppress a giggle, even at times laughter in the lavishness and obvious carelessness of his speech. As much as she had enjoyed it, she was thankful when he abruptly tumbled into silence because Suzaku had looked up from a bush of gardenia and smiled at them both. Everything about her brother seemed to lighten up almost immediately, as if an invisible hand had reached up and parted the strips of dark clouds gathering above his head.

Nunnally sighed quietly. Love, such an enigmatic feeling. She wondered when her chance to experience this grand, overpowering emotion would finally arrive. Surely it could not be long now that she had stepped into adulthood. She could not bring herself to imagine a charming prince on a white horse, for she knew that all she wanted was a compassionate young man who loved her and whom she loved in return.

"Well, as long as he is happy," her brother suddenly murmured, waking her from the mesmeric depth of her reverie. His gaze had yet to stray from the boy who had managed to capture his heart without knowing and Nunnally felt a faint tug of sympathy, even pity in her heart.

"Are you going to arrange a party for his birthday?" she asked softly, resting a hand on his tightly coiled fist. His eyes came to focus on her once more, the intensity in them rapidly lessening.

"Of course, but I shall have it slightly more special than usual since it will be his seventeenth birthday," he answered readily. "A bigger party, I suppose, although of course there will be the problem of keeping it a secret from him."

That, Nunnally silently decided, would be quite a disaster. Suzaku had never liked to be a centre of attention. He would be appropriately touched and thankful for the party since his pleasant, good-natured way did not allow him to be anything less, but he would not, in truth, be comfortable with it. Sadly, her brother was quite blind to these things when it came to spoiling his favourite friend.

"Perhaps you would like to celebrate the event in a quieter fashion, dear brother," she suggested – as innocently as possible. "After all the age of seventeen signifies many things, does it not?"

She could feel the suspicious look his brother was giving him, but Nunnally was content to leave the rest of the conjectures to his capable wits. For one with his level of intellect, surely this chain of logic offered little to no challenge. Her part was to sit back and hope that she would receive happy news at the end of this week, that these two young men dearest to her had finally found happiness in each other.

Deep inside her heart, she wondered if all was indeed that simple.

--

The city painted a busy picture of the afternoon's hustle and bustle, which Gino would have absolutely enjoyed watching and taking part in, had it not been for the heaviness of his heart. His mother was the chief subject of his distress, and the fact that he was – to put it bluntly and honestly – doing his best to elude her and therefore the many inquiries which she would undoubtedly make following the execution of her plan. Quite unsurprisingly, it made him feel terribly guilty. The youngest of four sons, his mother doted on him excessively and he was accustomed neither to deceive nor to disappoint her. This would definitely be a new experience.

But he would not give in. Gino was firm in his opinion that the young man he had met and kissed last night was the love he had only dared dreaming of his entire life. He knew it for sure, with the certainty of the sun climbing up higher into the sky, of the blood surging hotly in his veins, of the heart beating loudly in his chest. So deep and overwhelming was this love that not even the idea of going against his entire family could daunt him.

He heaved a deep breath, wishing that he could see that surprised expression again, kissed that unsmiling mouth. Suzaku, his name was. Gino wondered how beautiful he would look with a smile, or how desirable with his lips parted slightly, panting his name in great passion when they made love. But he knew next to nothing about him and this frustrated the young Weinberg to no end. Only his name, but oh he wanted to know so much more.

There was no one he could inquire too closely without rousing any suspicion, save for Anya, and she could only confirm that his love must be a member of the Britannia's household. Gino had gathered as much – why, a sword had been pointed to his neck for his daring to come close to the lady's chamber. He would say that Suzaku was a guard if he had not been wearing a noble's finery. But if he was not a servant, then what was he?

Gino looked up to the sky, as if the sun and the clouds could provide him with answers. The day was young still and he had much time at his disposal now that he was keeping himself out of his mother's sight. His mind strayed into a field of possibilities. Perhaps he could risk another glimpse into those beautiful green eyes, steal another kiss from those full lips.

But no. Trying to sneak into the Britannia compound in broad daylight for a Weinberg pretty much equalled a senseless suicide. He thought of Anya and the possibility of acquiring another help from her in this matter, but quickly rejected the idea. Neither could he seek for her company for the rest of the afternoon, either for the sake of a simple company or the wisdom of her counsel. There was the matter of propriety yet again. The fact that they had been intimate friends once made their association difficult to maintain in its old situation without having chins wag.

Gino sighed ruefully and resigned his fate to a singularly unproductive afternoon in the city. He made his way through sellers, hawkers, peddlers going neck-to-neck with each prospective buyer, only half-listening to the maelstrom of voices rising all around him, words and numbers tossed carelessly into the humid air.

It was then, through a strip of conversation between a man sitting in a cart partly filled with fruits and a plump woman who might have been his wife, that Fate once again showed him the way.

"It's him," the man said, pointing to a particular direction with his forefinger. There was something in his voice, a knowing, conspiratorial note which caused Gino to turn his head on instinct – and oh how he had never been more grateful that he had never ignored the gift of intuition like so many members of his gender.

There, standing in front of a girl selling an assortment of crockery, talking and smiling at her, was the love of his life. Right before his very eyes. Gino was too stunned by this blessed chance to allow himself any reaction for a long moment. Under the brightness of the sun, he looked even lovelier, with the lustre of his brown hair, the mirth in his wide, expressive eyes, and a smile that bewitched those who had a glimpse of it on his lips. Gino did not dare to approach, for he knew that he would immediately take the boy into his arms and kiss him passionately and such conduct was of course quite unacceptable before the public's eyes.

"The servant from the Britannia family that I told you about," the man said again while he still stood in uncertainty, torn between desire and a certain sense of decency, awkward but powerful still.

"That boy? You must be joking!" the woman responded breathlessly – she had a screechy voice. "Why, he looks so sweet and innocent!"

Gino found himself in a wordless agreement with this sentiment, his eyes never straying from the subject of the overheard conversation. Sweet and innocent would describe him perfectly at the moment, although the same could hardly be said about the young man he had encountered last night.

"No, I saw it with me own two eyes all right," her – supposed – husband replied adamantly. "Sweet and innocent as he might look, he really beat up six men larger than he was yesterday. The Weinbergs. Good with sword, that young'un."

Gino blinked. What?

A desire to laugh swept him all of a sudden, to which he gave in without any second thought. He processed this new information with a mixed feeling of astonishment and awe. Apparently the love of his life was the same person who had humiliated his eldest brother and his entourage so utterly yesterday morning. He was not sure if he should feel more horrified or amused by this bizarre coincidence.

"But if he's here, that means his master must also be here somewhere," the man continued with a knowledgeable tone. "They are rarely apart– ah, there he is."

Gino recognised him at once. An exceptionally good-looking young man, dark-haired and dressed in Britannia's regalia, was descending the stairs of a bookshop toward the crockery seller. The young lord of the Britannia himself, and the same person who had shouted at him last night for kissing his servant. He smiled and laid a protective hand on Suzaku's shoulder, and Gino felt his eyes narrow at the sight. There was something in his indulgent smile, in the way he leant close to the other boy, which stirred the green-eyed monster inside him into full alert.

Suicide or no, he felt that it was time to arrange another visit to the Britannia mansion. Perhaps once dusk had fallen.

--

Something was wrong.

Suzaku shook his head, but the action barely helped to ease his mind. Both the cool night air and the mellow tranquillity of the garden were just as useless for once. The reason to his restlessness remained elusive.

Oh, he knew what – or who, to be precise – the cause was without any doubt; it was the why which continued to elude him. While it was impossible to be completely unaffected after being kissed by a complete stranger, he could not understand why the incident should bother him to the point of agitation. After all, a man must be either a lunatic or a schemer with ill intents to kiss and declare passionate love to someone he had just met.

He blinked. Maybe that was exactly why. The man was an evil schemer who targeted either Lord Lelouch or Lady Nunnally, and as their closest friend and servant, he was on the way. Yes, that would explain everything perfectly. Suzaku was not a proud person, but he recognised his value to the family he was serving, and more importantly to the safety of his young lord and lady. It had not been out of charity, why Lord Britannia had taken him in – gratitude perhaps, for the service he had done for his offsprings seven years ago, but Suzaku knew very well that he wouldn't have been where he was now if it had not been for his exceptional physical abilities.

That was that, then. The next time he met that man, if he indeed dared to show his face again, Suzaku would not hesitate to capture him and leave his fate in the hand of the Britannia family's infamous gaolers. Most likely, it would put an end to any further scheme contrived by the particular faction who was accountable for dispatching him. A very satisfactory solution, in his opinion.

It seemed to Suzaku that the issue had been solved, at least for the moment. A part of him was relieved that he now had one less problem to worry about, and yet the rest remained uneasy. It was as if…

Suzaku scowled. He did not want to entertain the theory that he was possibly affected by that kiss in any emotional manner. Maybe it was about time to end this walk. He turned around, intent on returning to his room before the night could lend him more strange ideas to ruminate. The small walkway would lead him back to his own place, a small cottage a little away from the mansion where the family lived.

It had been a long, difficult struggle to earn himself a permission from the family to live there. He had waged war with Lelouch when they had been twelve, only because the other boy wanted him to occupy one of the empty guestrooms in the mansion. But Suzaku had been so much aware, at that precocious age, that he was no longer a child and should take advantage of Her Ladyship's kindness no more. He was a servant, and thus should be treated as one.

The solution had eventually come from the head cook. He had spent so much time in her kitchen, helping with everything he could, learning everything he could, that she had grown overly fond of him. There were many cottages in the extensive Britannia estate, she had said one day in the middle of peeling potatoes and cutting green beans, and most of them were left without care to lie in decline, so why not use one? A house taken care of was always better than one unoccupied, and hopefully, she had paused then to glance at him with a pair of shrewd eyes, it would appease the young master that at least he was not living among the servants.

Suzaku remembered that he had blushed back then. This practice of exclusivism had made him feel very uncomfortable, but he had to admit that it was an excellent suggestion, if only Lelouch would let him. To his greatest relief, the other boy – after countless suspicious inquiries and vehement remonstrances – had grudgingly accepted his explanation that he needed his own space and given his consent.

Suzaku had wanted to strangle him when he had found out that Lelouch was, in fact, the only one who had been making fuss over it.

The small sound coming from the hedge lining the left side of the path made him start. Suzaku placed one hand on the hilt of his sword, a purely mechanical reaction, and called out, "Who is there?"

A moment of silence passed and then there was the sound again, once, twice, steadily getting closer. Suzaku found himself gripping the hilt even tighter. Cool, gentle wind whistled down the path and a figure stepped out from behind the hedge as a nearby lamp flickered, its fire gleaming down at features now familiar enough to make him hold his breath.

"It is as if the gods themselves insist on our meeting again and again," the blond man said, a grin bright and wide on his handsome face, now lacking the cover of a mask. It took Suzaku a few seconds to remember to unsheathe his sword and point it to the unwelcome intruder's neck.

"Who are you?" he asked, unable to suppress the little tremor in his voice, but at least the sword he held was still steady.

"Ah yes, my name." The stranger took one step back and bowed in a gentlemanly manner, heedless of the sharp blade which was still directed threateningly to his person. "Gino Weinberg at your service."

Suzaku stared at him, unable to decide if he had heard correctly or not. "The youngest son of the Weinberg family," he murmured, his mind racing through all sort of possibilities rapidly taking shape in its recesses. His evil-schemer theory seemed to make sense all of a sudden.

"I see that my reputation precedes me," the other man said cheerfully. His eyes – the brightest blue, Suzaku could not help but notice under the brightly burning fire – briefly flickered toward the blade poised before him, a hint of wariness in them, before he spoke again. "Has it always been a habit of yours to draw sword against every stranger who crosses your path or is it an exclusive treatment you reserve solely for me?"

Suzaku felt his eyes narrow in suspicion. Growing up with Lelouch had sufficiently warned him against people who were proficient in the art of wordplay. "Give me one good reason why I should not kill you now," he said, resorting to the most aggressive tactic at once.

The Weinberg grinned at him. "You have not told me your name," he answered simply. "At least, not yet. I dare to hope that it will soon change."

"My name," Suzaku repeated, uncertainty shading his voice. He began to feel significantly more lost than suspicious, which was quite disturbing considering the circumstances.

"Yes," was the firm reply. For a long moment, Suzaku could only stare at him. His mind failed to come up with any reason as to why this man wished to know his name at all. It must be some inane strategy designed to stall the time – for a purpose which he could not seem to fathom, but still, he decided not to fall into the trap.

"Kururugi Suzaku," he answered tersely. "Is that all?"

"Oh, certainly not, my love." The blond man made an indication to approach, but the sword was swift to react, once more a threat on the base of his throat. He quickly held up his hands in front of his chest in a reconciliatory manner. "This is a matter we need to discuss slowly and carefully. I do not come here to bring any harm to this family."

Suzaku managed to maintain a vaguely unfriendly air – and at least his stubbornness still refused to lower the sword. "And supposedly I say I do not believe you?" he said sharply.

A look of resigned defeat settled on the other man's face. "If such is the case, then I shall go down on my knees and beg you to cut my chest open and see if I am indeed lying."

And then he proceeded to do just that. Suzaku felt his jaw drop open.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, half in shock, half in panic. "Stand up at once!"

"Not until you've sworn that you hold no doubt against my words," the Weinberg said solemnly, eyes imploring and fiercely sincere. Suzaku must force himself to return his attention back to the dire gravity of the situation and the folly he had perpetrated – why, he had lowered his sword despite the man still being a possible threat, and he had not even realised he had done so.

"If you are speaking the truth, then why did you come?" he asked at last once he had successfully located his voice.

"To confess," the reply was quick and straightforward, as honest as the eyes intent on his face. "Would it be imprudent of me to declare, to you and the entire world, that you have stolen my heart and soul?"

Suzaku gaped. He found that he had lost his ability to speak, and for a long moment could only stare at the man who had just practically declared his love for him. A complete stranger – an indisputably handsome and charming one, but still.

"Yes," he finally managed to answer – and almost winced at how so utterly helpless it sounded. Scavenging for splinters of his broken wits, he looked at the other man in the eye and tried to speak again. "In fact, it isn't imprudence as much as lunacy. No one sane will declare love to someone they had just met the night before."

"Yes, perhaps love has driven me mad," the blond man sighed and yet never looked away even once, "but I know of one thing for sure. One thing only, and it is that last night I fell in love."

Suzaku could feel his face burning as Gino rose to his feet and stepped closer, an effort abolish every distance left between them. He took one involuntary step back, severely torn between inexplicable attraction and a powerful urge to run away, when a hand gently touched his cheek. "Every man has his fault and honesty is his (1)," the other man said softly. "I spoke from the deepest of my heart, my love. And 'tis the absolute truth, I swear it is."

The much more sensible part of his mind cautioned him to push the young Weinberg away and Suzaku had, in fact, acknowledged the overwhelming merit of this course of action. But still his eyes fluttered shut when Gino leant down to kiss him, a gentle brush of lips upon lips. He whimpered softly, heart hammering wildly in his chest as the kiss took a firmer turn and developed into something much more passionate. He was left completely breathless when they parted, and the other man looked entirely too pleased with himself that Suzaku had to exert everything within his power to prevent a blush.

"I…think you need to go now," he murmured faintly, and earned himself a wide, mischievous grin.

"No killing a wicked, perfidious Weinberg tonight?"

Suzaku looked away to hide any suggestion of discomfort his face might betray. "Not tonight, no," he answered, steadily enough although he still failed to cover the breathlessness in his voice. "Consider this charity a gift since next week is my birthday."

"Ah, next week?" Those blue eyes lit up in a way which made him immediately regret this excess of information. "Such a wonderful coincidence. I wonder if you will grant me one more tiny charity from your generous heart."

He stared at the blond man, uneasiness and embarrassment mounting fast. "What?" he managed to ask after an effort to swallow. For one dreadful moment, he thought about another kiss – but of course he would not grant this Weinberg another kiss. As if there had not been enough follies he had committed for the day.

"A permission to court you."

For the third time in this relatively short duration of their encounter, Suzaku found himself utterly bereft of words and any ability to wield them. When they returned to him, it was in torrents so powerful that they easily overwhelmed whatever semblance of self-control he had left.

"Are you mad?" he could hear his voice was rising, and for once he didn't care that someone might overhear. "My duty is to guard this family from yours!"

Gino shrugged his shoulders in a dismissive manner. "A tiny insignificant detail," he said, his tone cheerful and confident. "I believe love will allow us to overlook one or two things in return of being a victim to its whims. Do I have your permission then?"

"Of course not!" Suzaku was certain that he was now shouting, and the heat on his cheeks certainly did not help.

"Well, then I shall have to win it," Gino decided firmly and took his unoccupied hand to land an affectionate kiss on the back. "That and your heart."

With a wish of good night and sweet dreams to smooth the frown on his brow, he then proceeded to take his leave. Suzaku was left staring at his disappearing shadow, still stunned into incoherence even when it had disappeared behind tall hedges and trees. A tiny part of him was relieved, for his meetings with the blond man had always left him in such a jumbled state not unlike that after an encounter with a whirlwind. He could not help but wonder if this spell would eventually wear out or would persist instead through future visits.

But surely he must not allow such meetings to take place ever again?

The idea that he was never to meet the other man again caused him a degree of uneasiness he had never quite felt before. Suzaku was so deeply troubled by this unexpected reaction that he almost jumped when he felt a light touch on his left shoulder. A pair of dark violet eyes greeted him coolly once he had turned around, sword once more ready to strike.

"Lelouch," he breathed out in surprise, a mix of relief and fear swirling thickly inside him as the full impact of recognition caught up. The possibility that his friend had witnessed what which had just transpired between him and a son of the opposing family was daunting to say the least.

"I thought I heard voices," Lelouch said calmly – much too calm in fact, that Suzaku felt almost sure that he had been a witness.

"Voices?" he struggled to keep his own steady and busied himself with sheathing his sword. "I'm afraid I didn't hear anything."

"Perhaps I was wrong," the other conceded but his clasp on Suzaku's shoulder remained firm. "There is something I wish to discuss with you. Perhaps we can go back to your place to speak more comfortably?"

"Of course," he answered quickly – a bit too hastily, perhaps, but Suzaku was much too relieved to care at the moment. He smiled at Lelouch and together they walked down the garden path, back to his cottage.

--

"Anya."

She didn't even blink when his face appeared in front of her window, followed by the rest of his body. Perhaps she was required to remind him of the late hour – and the utter impropriety this visit might seem to others who had no firsthand knowledge of the purely platonic nature of their relationship – but Anya was not one to burden herself with such trifles. She only looked at her visitor who had proceeded to kneel down next to her bed, bristling with uncontainable enthusiasm.

"You said once that you knew a man who did fireworks, did you not?"

A stony nod. "And?"

The grin which suddenly split his face was bursting with delight. "My saviour, my goddess, my everything. Pray tell me where I can find him or I shall be completely and utterly heartbroken."

Seven years of long, powerful friendship was the only reason why she could resist rolling her eyes.

The fool love made out of people.

End Part Two

--

Notes:
1: Timon of Athens, Act III Scene 1